


More Than Enough

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Collars, Flogging, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, idk how to tag this man, mentions of pet play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 00:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17254598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: the first time i watched hannibal when i wasn't in the fandom my first thought was "hannibal totally looks like he'd be into bdsm"also idk where i got the title from i wrote that when i started and it stuck :^)





	More Than Enough

Will has to stop and look, sitting back on his heels as he drinks in the sight of Hannibal, cuffed and restricted from movement. His face has that same poker face that felt like a shut book to Will, wanting so badly to take in all of the information. He lets his tongue snaked out between his lips, wetting them slowly, knowing Hannibal can see him.

He stands in his sweatpants that barely cling to his hips, the draw string loose and hanging down. He had discarded his shirt while rough housing with Hannibal, finally getting him to become lax and pliant. He bares the proof along his side, a blooming bruise that throbbed with each movement. Hannibal was less marked than Will, though, only a bite to his shoulder that only shed a drop of blood.

Hannibal’s tolerance to pain was a challenge to Will, and he always tried to get the older man to shake and sob like he does. It never works, but there was more than enough times where there was a pretty flush to his face and his eyebrows furrowed.

Will finally pushed himself off the wall that he had come to lean on, back popping as he twisted slightly. Amber eyes tracked his movements, now a tied down predator who threatened to bite. He moved to the nightstand and pulled the top drawer open roughly, wood banging against wood from the force.

He grabs the leather strip from the drawer and then pushes it shut once more, letting the collar weigh down his hand slightly as he moves to straddle Hannibal’s back. They hadn’t used the collar yet, but Will somehow felt like this was the perfect time, when Hannibal was tied down and docile. He wonders if he’ll bite if he gets close enough.

He brings the collar over his head, and then against his throat, pulling the straps back so he can fasten the buckle. It wasn’t a plastic clip like the dog collars Will often got, or snap on buttons, but instead a buckle that was probably expensive metal. He sits back to admire the dark color against his pale throat, knowing his weight presses into Hannibal’s lower back.

He brings his hand to the collar once more and slips two fingers into the space between the leather and skin, testing how much room like how he would test a collar for a dog. Letting his fingers slip out, he trails them down his back, following the notches of his spine, pressing just slightly.

Will leans forward, pressing his bare chest to Hannibal’s back, skin against skin, covering him almost completely. Then his teeth sink into the bite on his shoulder, teasing the irritated skin with his teeth, lapping at the drops of blood that dribble out. Hannibal huffs, something that’s probably a stifled laugh. “If anything you should be the collared one, my dear. With how much you love to bite, I would consider you a bad dog.”

He shudders, the words causing his own cock to stir where it sits in his boxers. He sinks his teeth deeper, relishing the deep growl Hannibal gives at the feeling. Once he feels more blood on his tongue, then he pulls back and admires the torn skin, imprints of his teeth deep in his shoulder.

And then he rolls off of Hannibal, watching the mattress shift to accommodate the weight change. His feet find the floor and he walks toward the closet, out of sight as he opens the door and flicks the light on so he can see. He shifts the clothing aside, hangers scratching against the pole, as he reaches for the rack in the back.

It contains all of the flogs and canes that Hannibal surprisingly possesses, and the mere sight of them intimidate Will. He grabs a small flog, running his fingers through the tassels, soft but with a sharp bite.

He shuts the light off as he retreats out of the closet, shutting the door behind him, letting it click into place before moving back toward the bed. It wasn’t their bedroom, but the guest room, and they never have guests so they use this room for these activities. It’s smaller than their room, and the closet isn’t walk in and there’s no giant bathtub in the bathroom that’s attached. Instead it’s a walk in shower, which Will considers ridiculous.

The bed has more rough sheets than the silk sheets they have, and the pillows don’t have fancy pillowcases. Will still doesn’t understand why they need a huge ass house and he barely knows what certain things are called. The only room he doesn’t go into was the basement, and he doesn’t even want to see what Hannibal does down there.

Hannibal hasn’t moved from his spot, still laying obediently with his hands cuffed above his head, his ankles fixed to one bedpost to where he’s laying diagonal on the bed on his stomach. It’s so erotic, and Will feels another rush of heat to his groin just watching. He doesn’t know how to tie the fancy bondage Hannibal does, but he knows how to work with cuffs.

He draws closer to the bed, letting the tassels flutter over Hannibal’s thighs and drag up to his ass, and then his lower back. “Do you feel that?” He whispers, the corners of his lips twitching up as goosebumps rise on Hannibal’s skin.

“It’s the small one, yes?” Hannibal asks, turning his head to look at Will over his shoulder, the collar digging into his flesh. He nods, continuing to drag the flog up and down Hannibal’s body, teasing and threatening.

And then he removes it, and he watches Hannibal tense up just for a fraction of a second before relaxing. He presses a knee into the mattress, leaning into it as he stares in thought, wanting Hannibal to never know when Will was going to move.

The first hit is quick, snapping against Hannibal’s right thigh, the flesh flushing in a pale pink color. He hears him inhale sharply, but keep his composure. Then he lays another hit in the same spot, the flush darkening with each lash. Four in that spot and then to the next thigh. Four on that spot as well, both thighs now blossoming an angry red. Then he repeated the pattern.

On the eighth hit to his left thigh, he flinched just barely, spine arching a tiny amount that still counted. Will let the flog fall onto the bed for a moment so he could smooth both of his hands over the spots, the skin hot and promising bruises. He presses, deep, nails leaving moons, and Hannibal snarls at the feeling.

“We’re not even done, sweetheart,” Will murmurs into the silence of the room. He removes his hands from the spots and picks the flog up once more, using his other hand to pull his sweatpants up barely.

He places a hit on Hannibal’s ass, and then on his lower back, stopping to let the tassels flutter over his skin again. The chains on the cuffs that were connected to the bedpost creaked, a result from Hannibal pulling at them.

He switches every three hits or so from his thighs, to his ass, and then to his back, pausing to press his hand into the hot flesh that now had an angry flush, bruises and welts blossoming. Hannibal was shaking, breaths coming out in huffs and his face and neck equally as flushed, eyes focused on the lamp that was illuminating the room in a soft light.

And then the hits stopped all together, and Will let the flog fall to the floor to be dealt with later. He unhooks the cuffs on his ankles first, rubbing his hand over the red lines that were from Hannibal tugging. He moves to the foot of the bed and bends down to kiss his forehead, the skin damp from sweat.

He unbuckles the collar and unhooks the cuffs around his wrists, setting the three items to the side. “You did good,” He whispers to him, cupping his face. His usually neat hair was now a mess, hanging in front of his eyes. Will reaches out with his other hand and pushes the hair behind Hannibal’s ear.

He then stands and leaves the room, the door ajar behind him as he goes into the master bedroom. He goes straight to the bathroom, dimming the white lights. He sees a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his cheeks flushed and a tent in his sweatpants that he had forgotten about. His hair was askew, but nothing drastic.

He turns to the bathtub and turns the faucet on, water streaming into the tub. He doesn’t plug it until he’s sure it’s full, and then he starts to add the lavender scented bath salts he knows Hannibal favors.

Will leaves the bathroom and goes back to the guest room, finding Hannibal right where he left him, only his head was laying down and his breath was calmer now. “Do you need help to get to the bathroom?” Will asks in a quiet voice, trying to be as soothing as Hannibal was during aftercare. He certainly wasn’t an expert compared to the older man.

Hannibal shakes his head and pauses before slowly lifting himself up, flinching as he climbs off the bed. Will’s at his side as soon as his feet touch the ground, covering his face in soft kisses. Despite what Hannibal had said, he helps him to the bathroom, intertwining their hands and making sure his balance was good.

“Could you make us some tea, love?” Hannibal asks as he’s settled into the bathtub, the water still running because it took longer than a normal bathtub to fill this one. Will nodded and left, going down to the kitchen. He works quickly, setting up the electric kettle and getting two mugs from the cupboard. He grabs the tea bags and waits, watching the water come to a boil, staying like that until the switch flips off.

Eight minutes later he’s handing a mug to Hannibal, sitting on the floor of the bathroom as Hannibal sits in the bath. It’s a while until the silence is broken, but once his mug is almost empty and the lavender is lulling them both into a pleasant doze, he asks, “Are you actually into that?”

Hannibal hums a curious sound, glancing at Will who has his back leaned against the tub wall, head on the ledge.

“The… dog stuff.”

“Pet play?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I am if you are, my dear boy.”

Will makes a sound in the back of his throat, face flushing more as he thinks more about the subject.

**Author's Note:**

> happy new year it's 10 minutes until midnight where i live   
> im too lazy to edit this so sorry for errors


End file.
